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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28369089">I saw the devil (in me)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragnehild/pseuds/ragnehild'>ragnehild</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Arasaka Ending, Attempted Murder, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Evil Corporations, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Honor suicide, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Terminal Illness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:20:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,960</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28369089</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragnehild/pseuds/ragnehild</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Takemura doesn't believe in ghosts, not really, but a man driven to his limit might believe in just about anything. Trapped in a losing game and consumed by grief, he returns to Night City looking for closure. but ends up finding something much more.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Goro Takemura/Viktor Vector, Judy Alvarez/Female V</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>106</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>warning: this contains spoilers for The Devil ending and also discusses heavy themes, so please read the tags. </p><p>As a ray of sunshine, I must add: it will eventually take a sharp turn into a more fluff-adjacent territory, after setting up the scene.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With Saburo Arasaka, he could get down on his knees, feel his forehead touch the ice-cold marble, and beg for forgiveness. For failing him. For not being fast, strong, vigilant enough. Eventually, the other man would nod, an unreadable expression on what used to be Yorinobu Arasaka’s face, and gesture for him to stand up. And so he did, eyes still fixed on the ground, not daring to look up. Then Arasaka would speak, informing Takemura of his immediate transfer. There would be no forgiveness this time, not really.</p><p>With V, he couldn’t even look her in the eye. </p><p>During their last conversation, she asked him if he was truly satisfied with the outcome. The lie came to him smoothly, rolling off his tongue like the sweetest wine, so sweet that it was nauseating. She looked at him with empty, washed-out eyes, the tiniest spark of emotion just barely visible on her dry, pale skin. Was it anger? Sadness? Resignation? Maybe all three? He couldn't quite tell. V used to be an open book in his eyes, a woman not afraid of facing the emotions she was feeling head-on, but that was no more. Takemura couldn't shake the impression that the V he knew was gone for good and he had no one to blame but himself. </p><p>What happened that night was not justice the way he saw it. Death for death, a punishment befitting the crime, that was an equal exchange, a fair one, surely enough to atone, but Hanako-sama made a different decision, one that he found appalling, though he would never openly admit it. It was one thing to take the life of a murderer, but entirely different to erase him while his body lived on to serve another.  </p><p>It took him long enough to grasp why V wouldn’t take the offer, but the longer he spent at Saburo’s side, the more he understood. There was something terrifying about it and he knew that the older men must’ve seen the emotion in his eyes, that he was able to look straight into the deepest corners of his soul, even if Takemura never allowed his doubts to show on his face. Maybe that was the reason he was sent away, maybe Saburo doubted his loyalty. It felt like a punishment, a final testament to his failure, a grand, yet tragic finale to his quest for justice. </p><p>And so he threw himself into his new duties in Takamatsu, a port city so densely populated with companies even the grandeur of Arasaka seemed bland in comparison. Assignment after assignment, he was eventually stationed as the company’s chief security officer, but compared to being at Saburo’s side or even his last few weeks in Night City, it felt like an office job in comparison. It was an office job. </p><p>He wanted to reach out to V so many times, invite her to Kagawa and finally show her all the good food and the life he got back, but every time he pulled out his comms to write a message or call, he found himself questioning if that’s really the life he wanted her to see. Eventually, months went by and Takemura found himself counting the weeks and the days, the same way V undoubtedly did. Or maybe she didn’t, trying to enjoy the last moments of her life without the constant reminder of the fact that she was running out of time. He liked thinking that he was doing it for her, taking that burden from V’s arms and carrying it on his own, but it brought him little comfort. After all, it was just a lie he kept telling himself, with little grounding in reality. </p><p> As winter approached, Takemura found himself sleeping less and less, Tired of tossing and turning, he’d go to the very top of the skyscraper his apartment was in and stare at the outline of the city, so full of colorful lights that it almost made up for the darkness and thick clouds that covered the sky. And then he’d looked down at the street below him, and from where he was standing it looked like a black sea, the water still, just waiting to engulf him, to swallow him whole. </p><p>At times like this, Takemura would snap his eyelids shut and take a few steps back, not allowing his mind to wander in that direction any longer, refusing to let it close in on him like this. And yet, he soon found himself coming up to that rooftop every time he left work, so he started leaving it less and less, spending the nights in his office reviewing proposals for new security protocols, going through armory statements, anything to stop himself from thinking too much.</p><p>When he got the news, it was one of these nights where he found himself out of his office, back at the barely occupied apartment. Takemura was standing on the rooftop, leaning on the barrier and taking a drag from a cigarette, a bad habit he picked up a few months back, his body shaking slightly from the cold. He left his coat at the apartment, figuring he wouldn’t need it, that the sharpness of the first days of winter would snap him out of those endless deliberations of what could have been but never was.  </p><p>His comms buzzed slightly and he pulled up the message, knowing what it said before he even read the letters. He’s been expecting it for a few weeks now. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Viktor</strong>
</p><p>
  <em> [1:32] &gt;She passed away this morning.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>That was it. To his surprise, he didn’t feel relief, the tension that has been building in his chest for the last few months simply refused to let go. Quite the opposite - he felt it spilling over and for a second Takemura forgot how to breathe, the cold air biting his lungs, freezing them to stone. </p><p>Maybe that is why he found himself on an elevator to the top floor of Araaka Tower, a short wakizashi sword behind his belt. Security questioned neither that nor the time of his appearance, they just let him through. He could swear he saw curiosity in their eyes, well hidden behind their usual stern expressions, but he ignored it, focusing on the path ahead through the minimalist, impersonal interior of the building. </p><p>They won’t have to wonder for much longer. Eventually, someone will notice he hasn’t come back, they’ll check his office first, call him, worried whispers exchanged quietly between coworkers. Maybe they’ll be smart enough to check the elevator footage, see him pull out a key and turn it, granting himself access to the rooftop the old fashioned way. Someone will eventually follow in his footsteps, maybe Fukuzawa, his direct subordinate, and find him up there, body covered by a thin layer of snow that didn’t have the chance to melt, his body rapidly dropping in temperature, blood sharply contrasting with the white snow. </p><p>He had to do it in one cut. Hesitating would mean failure, if he doesn’t cut deep enough, he might not be able to drive the blade into his abdomen again, and then all will be lost, a chance for an honorable death gone in a whim, yet another punishment for the chain of mistakes that lead him to where he was now. Nobody to assist him, there was no room for mistakes.</p><p>There never really was. </p><p>A soft ping of an elevator, accompanied by a robotic voice informed him that the elevator had stopped its course. The steel door opened and he stepped out into the night but didn’t rush it. Takemura was hoping that maybe he’d get to see the moon from here, a gloom reminder of all the reasons he found himself in this position, but the universe seemed to spare him the sight - as expected, the sky was densely covered with dark, gloomy clouds. Tiny snowflakes lazily falling over the city. He could barely feel tiny bites of cold as they landed on his face, instantly turning into tiny drops of water. </p><p>He stopped about halfway from the edge. Takemura unbuttoned his jacket before he took it off and neatly folded it before setting it on the ground. Then he kneeled, the thin material barely shielding him from the cold and the hardness of the ground beneath him.</p><p>Takemura unsheathed the blade and inspected it, gently running his thumb over the sharp metal. It will surely do the job, he took great care of his weapons, even if he wasn’t actively using them. Takemura never actually used this one in combat, too sentimental to let it turn blunt in some senseless act of violence. A gift from Saburo, nearly 30 years ago, It almost seemed poetic, in a sense. </p><p>Takemura took the blade into his right hand and let it rest on the left side of his stomach, already feeling the metal press onto his skin. After closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, feeling the cold air enter his lungs, and slowly exhaled. Just as he was ready to push the blade into his gut, he heard it. A soft sound that didn’t belong, certainly not on a skyscraper roof in the middle of winter. And yet he was sure it wasn’t a hallucination or a far cry of a distant memory and so he opened his eyes. </p><p>A cat was staring at him. It was sitting a few meters from him, right in the middle of a circle of light, as if basking in it. It meowed again, louder this time and Takemura froze. </p><p>He couldn't help it. The cold night disappeared, replaced by memory so vivid it felt surreal. Himself sitting on a different roof, in a different place, V right there beside him. They’ve been on that spot for hours at that point, tense silence melted into friendly chatter. He even got her that pizza, had a slice or two himself and it wasn’t as bad as all the things that posed as Japanese food over there. That’s when he saw it, a small, skinny thing, it’s greyish skin almost transparent in the yellow sunset. </p><p>When he snapped back to reality, he realized he was holding the wakizashi handle so tightly his knuckles turned white. He let go of it, as if burned and it fell to the ground, a loud clank of metal hitting stone echoing on the empty roof. Takemura looked up, searching for any sign of the creature's presence, but he found none. He was completely alone. </p><p>The man slowly got up to his feet, his legs a little stiff from kneeling in the cold. He leaned down to grab his jacket and the wakizashi and almost jumped when he heard a ping of another message, again coming from Viktor. </p><p>
  <em> [3:56] We’ll be doing a little memorial service, for closure’s sake. Think she would've wanted you there. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> [3:57] despite everything </em>
</p><p>Takemura stared at the letters, his hazed mind slowly putting together their meaning. The jacket he was holding tightly to his chest was soaked wet, so he just threw it over his shoulder and typed out a short reply. As he started walking towards the elevator, Takemura turned his head one more time and met a pair of yellowish eyes staring at him, as if making sure that he made it down in one piece. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>If he was expecting a profound sign that V is gone, he found none. Night City was just as Takemura remembered it - crowded, flashy, and devoid of taste, both figuratively and literally. Vendors were outshouting one another, each determined to lure a potential client into an inevitable culinary disappointment. Takemura found himself navigating through the busy market that an unfortunate shortcut led him through. In hindsight, he should have ordered a cab and arrive at the address Viktor provided unscathed and in a much shorter time, but he felt the need to stretch his legs, or at least that’s what he’d been telling himself. He still had plenty of time before the memorial service started and he didn’t want to arrive either too early or too late - the first one would no doubt result in a lot of uncomfortable silence and the latter would make it seem like he didn’t care. Takemura wasn’t too keen on either of these options and that meant a long stroll through the city. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could never grasp why V seemed to like this place so much. She spoke about it often, cursing corporations, gangs, and ever present exploitation to kingdom come, but she also seemed to fit in like a perfect piece of the puzzle, a small, but necessary cog in a living, breathing machine. She moved through it freely, her loud confidence and necessary caution interchanging in a wild dance that made the entire city spin. Where V shined, Takemura found himself losing rhythm, coming from the strict, organized world of the Arasaka military, and eventually realizing that he’d never learn the dance that made one feel at home in a place like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he approached Vista del Ray, a strong smell of old frying oil and fish gave way to more subtle scents, identical all around the world in places like this, Heywood or Shinjuku, it didn’t matter. Cigarette smoke floating up and chasing the wind, too much cologne on a young, elegantly dressed men that almost bumped into him, too focused on going through his emails to look ahead, a dinner burnt, tenants desperately attempting to air the apartment by opening a window as wide as it would go, which unfortunately for them wasn’t very far. All of that mixing, shifting, evolving into what could only be called a smell of desperation and longing for an opportunity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura left the main street and turned left into an alley, feeling the intense stares of a group of young men leaning heavily on a graffiti-covered, brick wall. He knew the type, so he just gave them a warning glare, aiding them in measuring the odds. As expected, none of them approached him, having done the math and realizing that they stand no chance. He wasn’t a local, so maybe if they stumbled upon someone else like him they’d go for it, but Takemura had Arasaka written all over his features, suit and tech. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>El Coyote Cojo seemed like a bar identical to many others, but the second Takemura walked through the door, he was sure he was in the right place. There was no music playing, the room filled with a murmur of hushed conversations between all the people who came to say their final goodbyes. And there were quite a lot of them. Takemura felt the corners of his lips go up in a sad smile. Of course, V had a lot of people who’d want to be here, the open suite full of them, standing in their small, respective groups, some around the tall tables, others hunched over their drinks at the bar. From where Takemura was standing, he hardly saw any familiar face, but then again, in those short few weeks he got to know V, there wasn’t much opportunity to get to know all the people she was close with. There was no time for that and more importantly, he didn’t feel like it was his place to intrude into her personal life. After all, they were just coworkers, of sorts, helping each other towards a common goal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is, until that stakeout on the roof. If Takemura was to pinpoint a moment where he could in full confidence call V a friend, it was those few hours they spent going over the entry points to Arasaka Industrial Park, analyzing the routes of transports going in and out, coming up with yet another idea how to get in without getting shot on the spot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then they got pizza and the conversation naturally shifted into something more casual, them reminiscing on their pasts and their futures. How different things were back then. V in what might’ve been her best, determined to get her life back and him doing the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed none of them got what they wanted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone passed next to him, whispering something about him getting a move on under their breath, and only then did Takemura realize that he was still standing in the doorway, staring somewhere above the heads of the mourners. Glad that he hadn't caught the attention of everyone in the room, he took a few steps forward and then, finally, he noticed Viktor, waving at him from his seat at the edge of the bar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Takemura approached him and took a seat next to the ripperdoc, the first thing he noticed was that Viktor looked noticeably older, dark circles under his eyes only adding to the feeling. Dressed in a classy, black suit that sure has seen better days, Viktor looked out of place, almost like...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was already  thinkin’ you wouldn't make it." he started, mindlessly rolling the nearly empty glass in his hand. "How was your flight?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Small talk, then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good enough, thank you." then, after a moment of deliberation, Takemura added. "I usually do not fly commercial." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh? What on earth stopped Arasaka’s golden boy from taking an AV?" Viktor asked, calling a bartender with a wave of his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura hesitated for a moment, but before the looming pressure of every passing second making the situation more awkward had a chance to set in, the bartender, a tall, heavily tattooed Latino man approached them to take his order. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just water, please." the bartender’s brow shot up, as if asking Takemura if he was sure, especially considering the occasion, but seeing that his client wouldn’t backtrack, he simply pulled up a glass. When it was full, two cubes of ice clinking inside, Takemura looked back at Viktor, still patiently waiting for his answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My higher ups don’t exactly know that I am here." he finally said, taking a sip from his glass to wash down the ping of anxiety he felt swelling up the moment he mentioned his unauthorized trip across the ocean. Not that it mattered anymore. The sword laid at the bottom of his suitcase, carefully wrapped in silk, just waiting for him to get some closure he apparently longed for so desperately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Viktor’s brow shot up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No leave to mourn a friend?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I’m afraid they would not consider it a reason important enough to neglect my duties."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You clearly did." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, fully aware of the consequences that await. But I could not miss it, I suppose I needed some…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Closure? And they wouldn’t let you have that? No wonder they call it a soul sucking job. Sorry to pry, but why don’t you just quit? Put in a two months notice or somethin'?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It does not work like that. Not when you have been there for as long as I have."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Viktor clearly wanted to say something, but just as he opened his mouth, everyone present started walking up to the area on the left from the bar, gathering around a small table covered in freshly lit candles, V’s photo in the middle. She was smiling, little reflections of the candle flames dancing in her eyes. V’s hair was shorter than Takemura remembered, it must’ve been taken well before they met. In a better time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Viktor who stood in front of the crowd to address them. His voice sounded strained at first, unusually high, but he cleared his throat, once, twice and didn’t let his voice break even once. He spoke with confidence, yet calmly, the same reassuring voice Takemura remembered from when he ended up in his clinic alongside V, with multiple gunshot wounds and some more or less minor lacerations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Viktor was done, a young woman with colorful hair took his place. Clearly battling with her shaking voice, she told about the time she and V went diving in the ruins of her childhood hometown. How she still had the camera that V fished out for her and how she’s still trying to fix it, but even if she won’t be able to bring such an antique back to life, a braindance they recorded together will keep a piece of V alive forever. After that, people started taking turns, each with their little story of what V meant for them. Takemura couldn’t quite focus, each new face blending with another, a never-ending litany composed of the good deeds of a woman that no longer was among them. When it was his turn to speak, Takemura hesitated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I did not know V for as long as most of you, but I am honored to have been able to call her a friend." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was it.</span>
</p><p>***</p><p>
  <span>"A lot of people came." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I’d say a third of them were fixers from every single part of this fuckin’ city. Never took them for a sentimental type." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Me neither."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know...you know what she told me in those last few weeks? “Viktor, if you dare to shed a single tear at my funeral, I swear I’ll rise up from the dead again and kick yer sorry ass”. It was one of the last things she told me, anyway. Couldn't really speak much later on." Viktor took another swing from the bottle, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of an already ruffled suit jacket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura didn’t ask how V was doing in those last moments. Didn’t need to, when he arrived at the clinic professor Kusama didn’t spare him any of the details. Quite the opposite, she was elaborate, listing all the end-stage symptoms in a cold, clinical tone. Upon hearing them, a thought crossed his mind that if it was about him, he’d beg to be copied and stored into Mikoshi. But not her. V wasn’t a coward like him and faced her death the way he’d never be able to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Viktor, I am..so deeply sorry." he just muttered, unable to form anything more concise. What was he supposed to say, anyway? How did his remorse and guilt compare to Viktor’s pain, who got a front row seat seeing all the ways V was withering away, day by day? Who must’ve spent hundreds of hours at her bedside, making sure that she’s comfortable in those last moments while Takemura spent those months bundled away in an office reviewing mountains of meaningless documents, too scared to even call her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nah." Viktor waved his hand, almost knocking over Takemura’s glass. "She wouldn’t want us to mope like this. Imma be okay soon enough. After all, grieving is a process and all that. What about you? Been holdin’ up okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah." Takemura said, but his voice came out coarse. He cleared his throat. "As much as circumstances allow."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor hummed, clearly not convinced. For a second Takemura was sure the other man would push the matter, but he dropped it. Two shots of tequila seemingly materialized on the counter before them when Takemura wasn’t looking, too focused on Viktor and his own thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How ‘bout just this one and we call it a day?" Viktor asked, taking the glass into his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I suppose it can’t do any harm." Takemura replied, raising his own glass. "To V?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"To V." </span>
</p><p>***</p><p>
  <span>Paradoxically, only when cigarette smoke filled his lungs he could finally take a deep breath. He excused himself a few minutes after their fourth round of shots. It’s not like he didn’t enjoy Viktor’s company, but the doctor was too perceptive for his own good and with each sip of alcohol chipping away his composure, Takemura felt that steel grip on his throat grow tighter and tighter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was alone in an alley right next to the entrance, cold winter air slowly sobering him up. Most guests have already left, only a few hindered behind, talking in the same, lowered voices he heard before. Not like he could hear any of that through the music, an old rock song he couldn't recall. Takemura slowly exhaled, a cloud of smoke dulling the air in front of him. It was time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you mind?" a woman's voice, right next to him. Takemura cursed under his breath. He was getting careless, much too distracted for his own safety. He turned his head and to his relief, he recognized her. A friend of Viktor’s, this tiny blonde woman, she ran some kind of an esoteric shop in the front. Misty was her name. They chatted a few times during the weeks Takemura would drop by the clinic to check on V. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not at all." he replied and moved a little to the side, making room for her to lean on the brightly painted wall. She didn’t take the invitation and remained standing, her big, brown eyes staring at him in a mix of emotions he could only describe as pity. Or maybe it was concern? He couldn't tell the difference anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know," Misty started, her voice even softer than Viktor’s during his speech. "your pain is not lesser than his." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takemura’s hand froze halfway from taking another drag of the cigarette. "Excuse me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I’m just saying you shouldn’t cut yourself off. Viktor does that too, but not like this. The pain will not disappear if you keep running from it. It’ll just chase you up, no matter what you do. It’s better to make peace with it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what to say. If he was in his right mind, he’d probably make up an excuse and walk away, but her words struck a chord in him that made him freeze, not daring to move even a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have made peace with it" he finally said, putting out the cigarette on the stone wall. He’ll find a trash can to throw it in later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I’m not the one you need to convince, Goro." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I..I am sorry, but I have to go. My return flight leaves in a few hours." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Misty gave him a sad smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I hope you’ll soon see that you’re exactly in a place you’re supposed to be in."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>     The door to his hotel room closed with a hum and a soft click of an automatic lock. This time, he did take the cab, walking back would give him way too much time to really think about what Misty had said. It made Takemura feel like a coward, running away from her like that, but he couldn't help it. If he stayed there any longer, he’d fall apart. Right in front of her, all the pieces he’s been so desperate to hold together for the last few months would disassemble and there’d be nobody to pick him back up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Takemura tossed the heavy wool coat onto the still pristine bed, the impact creating a small sea of wrinkles on the otherwise perfectly straightened linen. The hotel he chose was no Konpeki Plaza, but it was still far from the sleazy, off the road (and off the radar) motels he had a chance to familiarize himself with during his last stay in Night City. The room, with its generic, yet tasteful decor remained perfectly impersonal, walls devoid of any stains, no blood or other fluids on the dark carpet, fresh towels handcrafted into fantastical shapes neatly tucked on the bed. The only thing that made it feel lived in was a fainting fragrance of cologne, left behind by the previous guest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Takemura paced around the room for a few minutes before finally setting himself on the chair in the corner of the room. Whatever he was hoping he’d achieve by going to V’s funeral, he didn’t feel it. The guilt was still there. Just a few months ago he was so convinced that he’d be able to offer her an alternative, one that so few of this world could even dream of having access to, and she declined. He didn’t understand it then, but he did now. Strangely, this realization gave way to a different thought, one that he’d been trying to push as far back into his mind as possible, with little success. It wasn’t only V that Arasaka has failed. For the first time in his life, Takemura almost felt like Arasaka had also failed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He couldn't really blame the company for not having the tech that is yet to be created, or for doctors and scientists who’d only sight and shake their heads. Those six months ago it finally hit him that even Arasaka has its limits, despite their far-fetched attempts to prove otherwise. What he didn’t understand was the way he was so decisively removed from the inner circle of the Arasaka family, transferred to a city almost 700km away from Tokyo, and given a job that he wasn’t suitable to do, his knowledge steaming from experience and practice. After all, he was a soldier, not a clerk. All he wanted was to continue serving, a modest gratification for the lengths he went to in order to uncover Yorinobu’s plot. V would certainly say that he deserved more. Takemura wouldn’t dare, even within the confines of his own mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     After a moment of hesitation, he pulled up his comms. It was stupid. Pointless. Above all, it probably wouldn’t even work, but despite all of that, he still found himself selecting V’s number. Before he knew it, a steady melody of an awaiting call rang in his ears. At least the number hasn’t been disconnected. Yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Takemura didn’t know what he was expecting, exactly. There was nobody to pick up the phone anymore, and yet he was hoping that calling V’s number this one time would make up for all the times he didn't. Takemura let out a deep sigh, gestured to end the call and soon was left with an empty screen with basic contact information. And yet, when he now looked at it, it wasn’t empty at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     How on Earth didn’t he notice it before? He checked the date again, unable to believe that for all the time he spent staring at this one specific entry of his long contact list, he didn’t notice this aggressively yellow icon, gleaming next to V’s icon on his interface. Was it even possible that he missed it? What was he doing a little over three months ago, anyway? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He barely remembered, this period of his life little more than a blur. Should he even open it now? Wouldn't it merely be opening old wounds, ones that even time didn’t seem to heal? After all, Takemura doubted there was anything V could say to him that’d push him from the path he found himself walking. There was no turning back, not when he was nearing the end of it, but he still opened the voice message. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>     “Hey Takemura, it’s V. Been a while, huh? You must be back home already, bathing in all that Arasaka glory. Is the local cuisine as good as you remembered? I’m still waiting for you to show me that famed real food of yours. Onigiri with...what was it again? Umeboshi? Hope I’m not butchering the nomenclature too much. Anyway, I came back to Night City, moved in with Judy shortly after. I didn’t want to rush things with her, but considering the circumstances, it just felt right. Did I even tell you about her? Met her on the job and we clicked right away. You’d like her, I’m sure.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>     I’ve been doing some small jobs, mostly for friends, in between dodging Viktor like the plague, but, uh...there came a time I couldn’t do either anymore. It was Judy who practically dragged me to his clinic and then the whole carousel I’ve been so desperately running away from started rollin’. Scans, meds, all of that, at first it felt like I was back at the Arasaka clinic, except Viktor actually listened to me and gave me some fuckin’ room. He has me on a cocktail of meds that get me through the day, but honestly...I hate seeing that expression on his face every time I come see him. I know he’s tryin’ to hide it, but between you and me, he’s doing a pretty shit job. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>     Anyway, enough of me talkin’...I feel that maybe we didn’t end things on the right foot that time at the clinic. I know you wanted what you think was best for me, but you know what? Despite everything, I feel free. You should try that sometime.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     The message ended with a beep and Takemura just sat there, eyes fixed on the ground. And then he played it again. And again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Halfway through the third, he heard a knock on the door. One quick scan of the people behind it told him it wasn’t housekeeping, so did the urgency apparent in the way his visitors made the door shake slightly with the impact. He stood up and walked to the door, letting the thick carpet muffle his footsteps. Before opening, he grabbed a gun from his coat and tucked it behind his belt, just to be safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Two men stood at the door, a familiar signature written seemingly all over them. Takemura wouldn’t say he was relieved upon seeing them, though. Not at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Can I help you with something, gentleman?” he asked, switching to Japanese, just for politeness' sake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “You are to come with us.” the shorter one said, eyes obscured by the blue-tinted glasses he wore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “That is not possible. My flight leaves soon and I am afraid I will miss it if I take any detours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Takemura-san,” the man said, a hint of a smile appearing on his otherwise expressionless face. “this is not a request. Arasaka-dono wishes to speak with you and I assure you, you wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He was right. Takemura wouldn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Alright then, allow me to just grab my…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “That isn’t necessary. We will take care of your luggage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Takemura felt his stomach drop, the same uncomfortable feeling one has when walking down the stairs and missing a step. He couldn't quite pinpoint why, but instincts were often hard to fool and the man in front of him didn’t inspire any warm feelings in his heart. Not many people working at Arasaka did, but as long as he stayed in line, he felt safe. Only now, when he had crossed it, he felt how thin it truly was. And how much he’s lost his edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Takemura turned back to grab his coat and put it on, but instead of bringing him comfort, the heavy material felt as if it was bringing him down. Something weird seemed to be happening with his optics too, the image glitching every few steps. He wouldn’t show it, though, walking out of the hotel with his head held high and mind racing to come up with various scenarios of how he should proceed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The car was parked right next to the main entrance. One of the men opened its door to let him in, but Takemura stopped abruptly, hit with an all too familiar feeling. His mouth felt dry and he could feel a layer of cold sweat covered his brow. Takemura reached out to steady himself on the doorframe and felt one of Arasaka henchmen lean in behind him, the barrel of a gun digging into his ribs and a hand reaching for Takemura’s own weapon, still tucked behind his belt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Quite a kick, right? Now, let’s not make a scene here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I thought I was to talk with Arasaka-dono.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “You will, but first, let us drive to a more suitable place.”</span>
</p><p>***<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>     Takemura doubted that an abandoned parking lot in North Oaks is a place suitable for anything, especially a conversation, but at this point, he didn’t have much to say on the matter. Before they drove into Westbrook, his interface was completely gone and all he could rely on were his senses, devoid of the advantages implants previously gave him. Takemura could feel cyberwithrawal symptoms setting in, slowly building up into the most unpleasant crescendo. Then again, with the way his night was going, maybe he won’t live long enough to have to suffer through it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “What are we doing here?” Takemura asked after they all got out of the car. The driver, too, slightly older than his companions, with a steel hand obscured by a long sleeve of his coat. The place was scarcely lit, only one of the big, industrial lamps still working, providing a shaky, unreliable source of light right where they were standing, the three men next to each other, Takemura facing them from a short distance of maybe three meters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The driver stepped forward and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. Takemura would surely feel his body tense at the sight if he wasn’t trembling so much at that point. To his surprise, the man didn’t pull out a gun to shoot him with, but a shard. Without any additional explanation, he plugged it in and his hard stare vanished, replaced by a stream of data reflecting on his eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Takemura.” the proxy said, unintentionally mimicking Saburo’s voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Arasaka-dono.” Takemura grit his teeth and bowed to greet the men, fists clenching at his sides to stop his hands from shaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I am sure you know why you find yourself here. If it is any consolation, it is not only you that can be blamed for your current position. Hanako made a grave mistake asking you to speak to that woman. She planted a seed of doubt into your heart, one that soon grew into a weed and started eating away at your soul. There is a way to remedy that, however. You can still reclaim your honor by finishing what you started in Takamatsu. Right here, right now. There is no need for you to come back to Japan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Arasaka-dono, I…” Takemura started, but the man raised his hand, silencing him in one gesture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Ishihara here will be your second, should your hand falter. I do not wish for you to suffer.” the proxy turned to the man to his left, the one with the glasses, and gave him a small nod. He stepped forward, revealing a small package he’d been holding, and placed it on the ground in front of Takemura, who immediately knew what it was. He recognized the maroon silk. As he looked back up at the three men, they didn’t move. They simply waited. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     And so Takemura kneeled, eyes fixed on the silk-wrapped sword in front of him. He leaned forward, carefully unwrapping the material until the blade laid bare, waiting for Takemura to grab its handle. Ishihara moved behind him, footsteps barely audible on the concrete floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “You served the Arasaka family well through the years, but even a strong man like you is not immune to change or destructive influence. You surely understand that this is the only way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Takemura did not see it like that. To go on his own terms, reconciled with his mistakes, that was the death he hoped he’d face. This felt like theatrics, a lot of effort put into making him feel like he had a choice where there was none. Takemura allowed his gaze to leave the proxy’s face and look beyond the guards, resting his eyes on the wall so densely covered with graffiti that none of it was legible. A vine crept up the stone, forcing its way into the cracked surface, destroying it even further in its primal pursuit of expansion. Below that, a pair of yellowish, feline eyes gleamed, just outside the circle of light. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>     Despite everything, I feel free. You should try that sometime.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I do.” Takemura turned his head to the side slightly, just enough to see Ishihara standing behind him, his own sword in hand. Will he wait for Takemura to plunge the blade into his abdomen and only then make the cut? Or will he swing the weapon as soon as Takemura reaches for the wakizashi, intent clear enough in that simple gesture? He didn’t know, but Takemura wasn’t in any position to make bets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He leaned down and allowed his hand to reach for the wakizashi, still looking to his left. As expected, just as his fingers brushed the wooden handle of the sword, Ishihara swung his own, aiming for Takemura’s neck. The man reacted on instinct, throwing his arm to block the blade while his other hand grabbed the sword in front of him, fingers tightly closing around the handle. Takemura felt Ishihara’s powerful cut slice through skin and muscle, only stopping at the chrome reinforced bone. The blood soaked his sleeve almost instantly, splatters staining both of their faces, but Takemura grit his teeth and turned, blocking and forcefully guiding Ishihara’s blade away from himself, drastically widening the cut as he lunged forward to drive the wakizashi through the Arasaka agent’s chest. It went in with a grisly, wet sound of torn flesh and bone. Takemura didn’t stop and turned once more, ignoring his opponent's desperate gasps, dragging Ishihara’s already limping body along, shielding himself from incoming bullets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The echo of shots rang wide through the empty parking lot as Takemura practically ran forward, pushing the already dead man in front of him with his full body weight. When his opponent realized he’ll have to reload soon, he took a few steps back, a glimpse of fear going through his face as he wrestled with the magazine. What it was he saw in his eyes that scared him so much, Takemura did not know, but seizing the occasion, he retracted the blade from Ishihara’s body, letting it drop onto the ground like a sack of flour, and lunged forward. Just as their bodies met, the other henchmen managed to fire, but only once before his dominant hand was sliced off in one strike, strong enough to sever the tissue and the wires that held it together. The man screamed as he saw his arm on the ground in front of him, but before the sound had the chance to echo off the ruined walls, it was cut short.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Takemura could already feel his left arm lose sensation, growing weak and limp with every ounce of blood he kept losing, but it didn’t matter now, nor did the chills or the way his entire body rebelled against being cut off from augmentations so abruptly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The proxy didn’t move, didn’t even flinch, still standing those few meters in front of Takemura. He was armed, holster clearly visible at his hip, but he didn’t draw the gun. Takemura turned to face him, adrenaline still rushing through his veins and keeping him upright. Knowing it won’t be for much longer, Takemura made a few steps forward and stopped, weapon still in hand, his other arm hanging uselessly at his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The proxy hummed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “An honorable death or a lifetime of shame. It greatly saddens me that you, of all people, chose wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     And just like that, the conversation was over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Takemura didn’t wait until the proxy fully regained awareness of his surroundings. Hardly honorable, but he doubted he could sink any lower and with the state he was in, letting the man come to his senses would almost certainly mean death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Cursing under his breath, Takemura went over to the agent’s bodies and patted them down, but didn’t find what he was looking for. He stood back up and turned to the car, feeling his legs grow weaker with every step. He somehow managed to drag himself onto the driver’s seat and lean to the side to open the glove compartment, throwing the bloodied wakizashi onto the passenger's seat. Dark spots obscuring his vision, Takemura was going in blind, frantically searching for the injector with his good hand. The wave of relief he felt when his blood-soaked fingers finally landed on the familiar shape was almost enough to knock him out on its own, but he forced himself to power through. Tearing off the safety lid with his teeth, he stabbed himself in the chest with it and pushed the plug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The effect was immediate. Another rush of adrenaline made it feel like his heart was about to jump out of his chest, it’s breathless beating throbbing in his temples, but the darkness creeping up on him disappeared. Takemura knew the effect wouldn’t last long, but he hoped it’d be enough to at least pull up a first aid kit from under the passenger's seat. 
     When Takemura finally managed to rid himself of the coat and the jacket beneath it, he realized the extent of the damage. His arm looked bad. Really bad. If not for all the blood, he’d surely be able to see bone and wiring just barely keeping the limb together. His personal link was shredded, that’s for sure. The coagulants he tried using a second before clearly not working the way they were supposed to, Takemura tried bandaging his arm with one hand and somewhat succeeded, if not for the bright, red blood that soaked through the second he finished tying the knot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     With a trembling hand, Takemura started typing in the address but found himself missing every other letter, too unsteady to hit them right, smearing blood all over the little screen. The autopilot seemed to take the hint, though, and for the first time in his life, Takemura was grateful for the existence of autocorrect. He confirmed the address and clenched his fingers around the wheel. He’ll try driving it for as long as he can, he told himself, but if he passes out on the way at least there’s a chance to roll up at the door of someone who knows what to do with the body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Takemura didn’t remember much of the ride, his hand half-heartedly sliding on the steering wheel, smearing the blood on the fine, fair leather. He could feel himself drifting in and out of consciousness, head swimming with every sharp turn the car took. Eyes on the road, he kept telling himself, fingers clenching on the wheel to the point where it was almost painful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     After what felt like ages, the car pulled up into the familiar alley and stopped, a cheery voice announcing that he had arrived at his destination. Takemura unfastened the seatbelt and almost fell onto the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding tripping over the edge of the car by grabbing the open door at the last moment to steady himself. He could see people around him, their terrified glances, but no one moved to help him. Those last few meters felt like a lucid, colorful dream. Takemura could hardly walk straight at that point, the world around him akin to a badly cut film. Maneki nekos waving their little, mechanical paws. Scent of incense so sharp it was almost unpleasant. Porcelain set falling to the ground, breaking into hundreds little pieces, impossible to put back together. And a beautiful carpet, no doubt woven by hand, surely only a human could put colors and patterns and threads together so beautifully. Such a waste, he thought before he finally gave in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Misty will never get the blood out. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>     As he opened his eyes, the first thing Takemura noticed was that he was no longer lying on a leather chair in the center of the clinic, hooked up to an impossible amount of monitors, a painfully bright surgical lamp hovering over him, blinding him to the point where it wasn’t possible to keep his eyes open even if he wanted to. Instead, Takemura found himself lying on an actual bed, frame creaking with every little movement he made. It was pushed to the side of the garage, away from prying eyes, but still within Viktor’s line of sight. The other man must’ve moved him at some point, though Takemura wouldn't be able to pinpoint when exactly, the brief moments he could recall an unsettling blur in an otherwise blissfully void unconsciousness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Misty’s terrified face. Viktor leaning over him, still in that suit he wore to the funeral, bloody smears staining his otherwise perfectly white shirt. The bitter taste of vomit flooding Takemura’s mouth, a pair of strong hands helping him turn to the side so he wouldn't choke. And the cold. An unyielding chill that’d shake him awake every few hours, teeth chattering despite a thick blanket he was covered with. Eventually, it was gone, only to come back in the form of searing hotness, one that made his optics go haywire, spitting glitchy warnings all over his feed before he drifted off again. And Viktor’s hand against his forehead, his skin almost ice cold in comparison with his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     In short, Takemura felt like absolute shit. Like he’s been dragged through Night City’s trash dump and back. At least the clinic didn’t seem to him a rocking boat anymore, the soft, neon lights no longer so unpleasantly bright as they were merely a few hours before. It seemed surreal, but it’s not like Takemura didn’t know what to expect. He’s been through cyberware withdrawal in the past, the memory of the last time he ended up in Viktor’s clinic in a less than presentable state still fresh in his mind, but this felt so much worse. In the moments he was lucid enough to form such judgments, Takemura kept telling himself it was his injuries aggravating his symptoms, these two unfortunate circumstances layered on top of each other in yet another instance of bad luck that seemed to follow him the moment he stepped foot in Night City but he knew well enough it was bullshit, little more than wishful thinking on his part. It almost felt as if his body finally found an opportunity to carry out a proper vengeance for the last few months in Takamatsu. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     When Takemura first stepped off the AV, a sense of relief washed over him. Finally, he was back home. He made it, carved himself a path back under Arasaka’s wings, the only place he ever truly belonged. The circumstances were different, sure, and he was yet to swallow the disappointment that being dismissed from Saburo-dono’s side was, but everything was back as it should be. At that point, Takemura could still force himself to push the memory of V far back into his mind, convinced that it was her who made the wrong choice, though little did he know it wouldn’t be much longer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He refused to acknowledge it, but even before V started haunting his every waking moment, even his favorite foods felt bland to taste, far removed from the richness of flavor he remembered. Then came the memories and guilt that kept him awake at night and copious amounts of coffee to remedy the lost hours of sleep by day, his meals growing smaller and smaller, reduced into a bare minimum necessary to keep him going. He was never a man to refuse a meal, the memory of hunger that plagued his entire childhood burned into his mind, but these days he couldn’t stomach more than a few bites before he felt it lodge down his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Takemura slowly sat up and almost immediately regretted it, his back protesting the movement after all the hours he spent in one position. He ignored it, running a hand through his hair to pull back the loose strands plastered to his skin. To his mild surprise, he was no longer wearing the suit he left the hotel in, but a stretched out t-shirt and sweatpants, both a bit too loose on his smaller frame. Viktor must’ve changed his clothes at some point, most likely before the blood had a chance to stiffen the material. It didn’t make Takemura feel embarrassed. If anything, he was grateful for the care, but the state he was in certainly made him feel vulnerable, much more so than he’d be willing to admit. Fighting the anxiety rising in his chest, Takemura looked to the side, fully expecting his left arm to no longer be attached to his shoulder, but there it was - heavily bandaged, but still in one piece. He tried moving his fingers and saw them twitch before a warning jolt of pain reached his senses, discouraging him from any further experiments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The clinic was quiet, save for a soft hum of machinery and the sound of a boxing match playing in the background, punching and grunts faded out by a speaker spitting commentary faster than a machine gun spits bullets. All of that was interrupted by a soft creak as Viktor got up from his chair and walked over to Takemura. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Good to see you back among the living,” Viktor said, a faint smile on his lips. He was back to wearing his usual blue shirt, sleeves rolled up over his biceps, stethoscope hanging around his neck. He seemed much more at ease than the last time they met, the clinic being his natural environment much more so than the bar, though it did very little to lift the dark circles beneath his eyes. If anything, he looked even more exhausted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “How long was I…?” Takemura’s voice came out hoarse and strained, barely audible even for him. As if reading his mind, or, more likely, simply having a decent bedside manner, Viktor handed him a glass of water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Here you go. As for your question, four days, give or take.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “And did anyone..?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Did anyone come knockin’ looking for you?” Viktor asked as he grabbed himself a chair and sat beside Takemura. ”Luckily, no. Left me wondering what the hell happened. Somehow I doubt it was the Valentinos you met on a late night stroll, so let me make a wild guess - tough day at work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “You might call it that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “So what, Arasaka is sending their assassins after people for missing a day of work now?” the doctor asked, not much humor in his tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “It wasn’t...exactly that. I apologize, but I would rather not discuss it right now.” Takemura replied but didn’t provide further explanation. To his relief, Viktor didn’t push for it either, at least for now. Before the silence between them could grow any heavier, Takemura added: “If you are worried about troopers bursting through your door, there is no need. If they had not done that already, I believe it means that I...got my point across.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Should’ve seen the other guy, huh?” Viktor asked with a husky laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     A wet sound of a blade piercing the sternum, going right through the aorta. A seasoned Arasaka agent struggling to load a magazine, fear in his eyes as if he had seen the devil himself. A quick cut to the neck of a practically defenseless man, still recovering from the shard’s aftereffects, dead before he had a chance to see what happened to his companions. That’s all it took, it seems. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Since you’re out of the woods, allow me to give you a quick rundown of how it’s lookin’ for you: a gunshot wound to the stomach was a walk in the park compared to the scrap metal that was the wiring in your left hand. I hooked you up with some suitable replacements, should be working just fine if you allow the cuts to properly heal, so take it easy for a while. I took the liberty to go in and tweak your CPU a little, managed to restore some basic interface functions, but I'm afraid all the other implants are a goner.” Viktor said, fingers dancing as he typed on the screen he was holding. “No way for me to reset them, Arasaka tech is way above my pay grade. You probably know that already, which brings me to another matter we should, uh, discuss.” the other man’s expression changed, his brows furrowed in concern clearly evident on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Yes?” Takemura’s fingers froze halfway through buttoning the coat Viktor handed him. To his relief, Takemura realized it was his own coat, seemingly fresh from a half-decent laundry service, one that managed not to completely ruin the heavy grade wool. Buttoning it wasn’t easy with only one hand, but whatever was left of his pride made it impossible to ask Viktor for help. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I just found it concerning that you had such a strong reaction to bein’ cut off from implants, especially since it ain’t your first time. You should have experienced some mild nausea, light oversensitivity, maybe a vicious headache, but your other injuries aside, it knocked you right out for days. I ran quite a few scans when I was treating you but didn’t find much to explain it. How’ve you been feelin’ in the last few months? Eating well? Sleeping?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Was there even a point in lying?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Not really, no.” Takemura said, unable to look the other man in the eye, fingers slipping as he rushed to fasten the rest of the buttons, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Viktor hummed and stopped typing away at the small screen he had been holding, letting his hands rest on his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Listen, uh, the past few months have been tough on all of us. I’m not good with this sort of stuff, but if you need someone to talk to, I can give you contact info to a great doc.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “That will not be necessary, but thank you. I appreciate it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Alright, but you know, if you need it, don’t hesitate to ask. With the way things turned out, you’ll be staying in Night City for a while, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I’m afraid so. It would be unwise of me to come back to Japan right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I know it was supposed to be a short trip, so I don’t presume you came prepared for a longer stay, huh?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I have some funds stashed away on a secure account, but it will take me some time to gain access to them. I will pay for your services, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Nah, it’s not my fee I’m concerned about. I don’t want you to roam the streets in the dead of winter, not an eddy to your name. Suppose what I’m askin’ is if you have a place to stay?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Not at the moment, no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Then how about you stay in my place until you figure out what to do next? I’m not there all that much anyway, been spendin’ most nights at the clinic lately. Shame for the place to go unused like this and it seems you need it more than I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Takemura hesitated. Viktor has already done so much for him, from saving his life to letting him run up a tab on little more than a word. He knew he'd never be able to repay such kindness, but the ripper was right. Before he jumps all the hoops to access the little cash he had stashed away on an account so deeply buried even Arasaka wasn't able to cut him off from it, more than a few days will pass. He still felt weak and even just the thought of spending the night outside was making Takemura miserable. At the same time, he didn’t want to stay in the clinic any longer, knowing that his presence had effectively stopped Viktor from taking up more than a few clients he trusted well enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Thank you, Viktor,” Takemura said and bowed slightly, as deeply as the stitches would comfortably allow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “No problem, really,” the man smiled and handed him a shard. “Just jack it in, it’ll tell you the location and grant access to the building. It’s a few blocks away, you won’t miss it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “See you later, I suppose?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Sure. Go get some rest before you go out to roam the streets and remember, your body ain’t got all the fancy tech to patch you up in no time. Folks like you often seem to forget that. Just take it easy, Takemura.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “It’s Goro.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Call me Goro. And I will, do not worry. I have...a lot of things to figure out.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter.</p><p>Due to midterm exams breathing down my neck, I might be taking a longish hiatus (until mid-February), but worry not - if I find the time, I'll try to update this story, as we slowly find ourselves entering the 'oh no they were roommates' territory. </p><p>In the meantime, I'd love to write something shorter - I'm always open to requests! You can find me here and on tumblr at @silverhandy</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     Just as Viktor had said, his apartment was a short distance away from the clinic, but even that short walk made Takemura feel short of breath, his entire body shivering from the cold despite the thickness of his coat, one that should be more than enough to ward off the harshest of winters. He picked up the pace, following the directions on a small map that appeared on the top right of his interface, guiding him through the streets and later, when he reached the megablock, through the labyrinth of the scraped interior’s corridors. Takemura grimaced at the way the halls were littered, yellowed paint flaking away from the walls only adding to how grimy the place looked. Quietly hoping that Viktor’s apartment will turn out to be more orderly, Takemura pulled the collar of his coat up, but none of the people he passed on his way up gave him any more than a passing glance. At least this time he could blend right in instead of sticking out like a sore thumb. </p><p>     Finally, an elevator ride and two flights of stairs later, Takemura was standing in front of the ripperdoc’s apartment door, gingerly putting his hand on a scanner while trying to catch his breath, the short climb showcasing how far from his usual form he still was. After taking it’s sweet time to verify a new ID, the device beeped and the doors slid open, inviting him in. Relieved, he stepped into the dark corridor and reached out a hand in search of a light switch. It turned on with a soft click just as the doors closed behind him. </p><p>     The corridor opened into a combined kitchen and living area, with a long counter creating an impromptu barrier between the two. A small desk was tucked in the corner on the far side of the room, barely enough space to house a desktop and a few books stacked on top of each other, the pile dangerously swinging to the left, threatening to collapse at any moment. The rest of the available space was occupied entirely by a big, comfortable looking sofa and a tall shelf housing even more books and boxing trophies, maneki nekos in various colors and shapes perched up in between. As Takemura walked further into the room, he passed the door leading into a bathroom and what used to be another room for the bedroom, but with the wall dividing it and the rest of the apartment gone, different kinds of floor tiling were the only indicator that there used to be anything between them, </p><p>     Takemura shook off his coat with a heavy sigh and looked around for a place to hang it, eventually deciding on just placing it over the back of a chair, faced with a lack of a more traditional hanger. He walked up to the desk and hanged the coat over the metal frame of the chair, careful not to let the heavy material crease in ways it wasn’t meant to. </p><p>     That’s when he noticed the photographs. Not digi-frames, but actual, paper photos hung on a wall over the desk, small, carefully cut pieces of tape on each corner. Takemura leaned in a little to take a better look, intrigued by this old-fashioned display of nostalgia. It wasn’t out of character for Viktor, judging by the sheer amount of trophies he kept in his clinic, but still, this specific type of reminiscence wasn’t something that Takemura came upon too often. Moreso, despite his efforts to the contrary, his curiosity about the doctor’s personal life was only growing. It was impolite to sniff around his apartment like this, pry into the other man’s privacy, but the photos were there for him to see, practically luring him in. Moreover, it made him realize how little he knew about Viktor. </p><p>     Shortly after their first meeting, the ripperdoc would let him hang around the clinic for a few hours when Takemura stopped by to check on V during the weeks it took her to recover and a few times even offered to watch boxing matches together, throwing in anecdotes from his own sports career in between the speaker’s commentary. Takemura appreciated the gesture, these times they spent hunched over the tiny screen on Viktor’s desk, a moment of downtime Takemura didn’t realize he needed back then, alone in a foreign city, persecuted by his own people. Compared to the chaos that Night City was, the clinic felt stable, safe and consistent. Check on V, chat with Viktor, reluctantly accept his invitation to stay for a few hours. Rinse and repeat. Takemura wouldn’t admit to himself how comforting Viktor’s presence felt, how easy it was to drop his guard around him, kept telling himself that one of these days he’d just see if V was still breathing and go on his way, work on a plan while laying low, blending into the crowd. However, all things come to an end - eventually V pulled through and Takemura felt he had lost an excuse to visit the clinic and so he stopped coming, throwing himself into putting the pieces of his old life back together. There was no time for indulgences anymore. He had to stay vigilant all the way through and not let himself get distracted as he and V miraculously managed to pull off each part of their insane plan. </p><p>     They weren’t friends, exactly, their relationship bordering on acquaintances, but before that there was only one thing connecting them - V. With her gone, that thin thread between them was bound to break, wither away into nothing, and yet it didn’t the moment  Viktor was thoughtful enough invite him to V’s memorial. </p><p>     Takemura raised a hand to straighten the corner where the tape gave out, a centerpiece photo of Viktor, V, Misty, and a man with a square jaw and smiling eyes, arm thrown around Misty’s shoulders. They were at a diner of some sorts, washed out, red leather of the seats reminding Takemura of the same restaurant he spent hours nursing the same cup of coffee so he wouldn’t get kicked out. Plus, he still look like a corpo back then. That also could’ve helped his case. </p><p>     There were more photos of them, the group hanging out in various settings, at what looked like some sort of a festival, a bar, karaoke even, all these tiny moments forever captured in a single frame. Viktor and the man from the first photo after a sparring, foreheads glistening with sweat, a wide grin on their exhausted faces. There were a few others, ones where Viktor was noticeably younger, wrinkles that now lined his face not yet visible. Some of the photos were creased with white break marks where the pictures have been folded, the corners worn with age. </p><p>     Just as Takemura was about to turn away, already feeling like he was leering, he noticed that one of the pictures had fallen to the ground. He leaned down to grab it and put it back where it belonged, filling the empty space it left behind on the wall, but not before he could take a look. The photo was quite old, though not quite as old as some of the others. Viktor was standing with an arm casually thrown over another man’s shoulders, both in Trauma Team uniforms, smiling for the camera. </p><p>     Takemura hummed. Of course, that Trauma patch Viktor wore wasn't for show, but at the same time, the ripper didn’t seem too open about his career there. Takemura looked at the man next to Viktor. He was much leaner, Japanese heritage clearly visible in his features. He was smiling, too, practically leaning on the man next to him, daring eyes looking straight into the camera. Takemura let himself wonder, gently fondling the photo between his fingers. A good friend? He turned the photo and read the date. April 23rd, 2068, nearly a decade ago. More than enough time for circumstances to change, new opportunities to arise, friendships to dissolve, Takemura thought as he placed the photo back in its place. </p><p>     Enough of that. What he needed right now was a hot shower, the kind that almost burned, forcing the strained muscles to relax. Takemura could feel how clammy his skin was, covered with layers of dried sweat from the days he spent tossing and turning, battling the ever rising fever. Washing it all off was bound to make him feel better, and even if it didn’t, it was certainly a start.</p><p>     Takemura made his way to the bathroom, taking note of a fresh towel and a small pile of clothes left there, a small note laid on top of a neat pile. He smiled softly at an <em> I hope it fits this time </em>written in small, jabby cursive, but let it be for now, instead leaning down to turn the faucet of the bathtub on. It took him some time to figure out the proper ratio of cold to hot water, the pipes gurgling warningly at every turn, but eventually, he was satisfied. While the tub filled, he took off his clothes and folded them carefully, placing the pile in the laundry basket and waited until the tub was finally full. </p><p>     Careful not to wet the bandage covering the entirety of his left arm, Takemura slipped into the water with a deep sight. The bathtub was quite big, long enough for him to straighten his legs comfortably. Left arm resting on the edge of the tub, he let the rest of his frame submerge into the water completely, already feeling the sheer temperature of it forcefully untwisting the knots that his muscles have turned into. Brushing away the wet strands of his long hair, he grabbed a bar of soap resting on a small stand and started sliding it over his skin, carefully washing the crevices where chrome met flesh. Soon enough the clear water dulled into milky whiteness and Takemura let his head rest on the edge of the tub, closing his eyes and letting himself simply enjoy the warmth surrounding him. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander, skipping over his plans for the foreseeable future. After regaining access to his account and the little money he managed to stash there, the first thing he’ll do is pay Viktor off, twofold for all his trouble. Then what? He didn’t want to think about it too much in the moment, but soon enough he’ll have to. Maybe he should just take these few days off, let his body heal before he has to make any big decisions. With his old life ending the way it did, sooner or later he’ll have to start building a new one. </p><p>     Because in a way, a part of him died in that abandoned parking lot in North Oaks. By not accepting the fate Saburo-dono decided for him, Takemura denied everything he ever sworn by, this final act of disobedience ending the man he once was. The only man he knew how to be. If he was honest with himself, he was scared that not much else might be left. </p><p>     Takemura didn’t even notice when the water turned cold until he felt himself shiver slightly, the pleasant warmth no longer engulfing him. He must’ve lost track of time, he thought as he stood to get out of the tub, careful not to slip. Takemura reached for the towel and started drying himself, surprised at how soft the material was. Eventually, he wrapped it around his hips and leaned over the edge of the sink, feeling as if it was the first time he had really looked at his reflection in months. Silver threads in his hair had crept up beyond his temples, making his skin look even paler, even more so with how deep the dark circles beneath his eyes were. He looked thinner, too, muscles he considered his own personal armor, an essential part of what used to be his job for decades, giving way to the bones straining against his skin, a palpable testament to the toll the last few months have taken on him. Takemura let his fingers ghost over the skin, dancing around the fresh scar right where the left side of his ribcage ended, until he reached up, all the way to his sternum where flesh met metal and further, to his cybernetically modified neck. </p><p>     He rubbed his hand over the insolation, red threading still wet from the bath. The touch felt distant, his fingers going over the cables and metal elements, all connected in an intricate pattern keeping the entire construction functional. Takemura felt a sudden need to tug at the cabling, see how much manhandling it’d allow before giving way. It felt suffocating, Arasaka logos all over the metal plates loudly declaring to whom he belongs. With that collar on him, could he really be something else? </p><p>     Takemura turned his eyes away from the mirror, as if afraid of what else he might see if he stared at it any longer. He pulled his still wet hair up into a messy knot and got dressed, the entire ordeal taking him an embarrassingly long amount of time. Viktor clearly had an eye, because the clothes, a charcoal pair of dress pants and a simple, navy shirt, fit him almost perfectly. Takemura hummed in appreciation, making a mental note to thank the doctor later and stepped out of the bathroom, but as he was making his way up to the chair where he left his coat, he saw a pair of yellow eyes staring right at him, seemingly just as surprised as he was. Was it the same ghost that kept haunting him for a while now?</p><p>     “V…?” Takemura heard his voice in the otherwise completely silent apartment, the merc’s name escaping his lips before he could even think about what he was about to say. The animal in front of him let out a meow before jumping off the counter and making its way to where Takemura was standing, still unable to move. As he felt its small body, very much corporeal, rub against his legs, he finally allowed himself to exhale. It was just a cat. Not a bakeneko, but an actual feline, one that seemed to take a liking to him almost immediately. As he passed the kitchen, only now noticing the two small bowls placed in the corner of the counter. Takemura scoffed at himself, embarrassed that such a thought would even cross his mind as he walked up to the couch, the cat following him closely. When he reached out a hand to grab his coat, the cat jumped onto the couch and meowed once more. </p><p>     “What is it?” Takemura asked, dropping his arm back to his side. The small thing meowed again, more demanding this time. He sat down on the couch, sighing as the cat immediately climbed onto his lap and made itself comfortable, purring loudly until it eventually settled down, curled into a ball. Takemura smiled softly, petting its tiny head, eyes already half lidded. He felt so tired, the couch was surprisingly comfortable and the heat radiating off the cat sleeping on his lap was more than enough for Takemura’s eyes to close, just for a second, he told himself, but before he knew it, he drifted away.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     When Takemura opened his eyes, he had no idea where he was, the apartment so foreign compared to what he was used to. The dissonance was almost enough to push the grogginess away from his mind, make the heaviness of his limbs less daunting as he looked around, taking in the surroundings. Right, he was at Viktor’s, must’ve dozed off at some point. At first, Takemura didn’t know what awoke him, other than the painful stiffness of his neck and shoulders but as his vision cleared, that, too, became apparent. Viktor was standing by the kitchen counter, motioning to take off his jacket, the snow that covered the material already melted and soaking into it, but froze halfway when he saw Takemura stir awake. </p><p>     “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake ya. Should’ve taken the bed, though.”</p><p>     “You did not wake me, I was just about to…” Takemura replied, motioning to get up, but what stopped him was a warning meow from the cat, still lying on his lap. It raised its head, clearly not amused by the disturbance. Viktor raised his eyebrows, a faint smile appearing on his lips as he grabbed himself a chair and sat down, leaving the jacket on the counter. </p><p>     “He likes you.”</p><p>     “Does he have a name?” Takemura asked as the cat stood up, clearly deciding it had had enough of its guest’s affections, and jumped to the floor in a swift motion, not even glancing at the two men. </p><p>     “Nibbles.” Viktor chuckled. “Before you ask, it was not my idea, but V’s. Judy...isn’t in the best place right now, said the cat reminds her of V too much, plus she’s leaving Night City for good anyway. Asked me to take care of it, so I took the little guy in.” he said, looking over at Nibbles, who jumped onto the counter, eyeing the bowls on the far corner of it and finally turning its gaze back to Viktor, disappointment clearly visible in its huge eyes. The ripperdoc shook his head slightly, a soft smile on his face as he engaged in a staring match with the cat, his eyes losing focus behind the tinted lenses as he got lost in thought. Takemura took the time to stretch, the aftereffects of a nap in such an uncomfortable position having stiffened his joints. He didn’t feel rested, more like he had been rather abruptly fished out of a tank filled with warm water. Then again, he didn’t think he knew what feeling rested felt like anymore. </p><p>     “A fine feline.” Takemura finally said, only to break the uncomfortable silence between them and to shake the doctor off whatever track of thought he found himself on. Viktor only hummed in acknowledgment, turning his gaze back to the other man. </p><p>     “Glad to see you settled in okay. It’s been slow at the clinic, so I thought I would drop by, just to grab something and see how you’re doin’ while I’m at it.”</p><p>     Takemura took a quick look at the little screen displaying the time, the digital numbers displayed on a small screen giving off a soft, blue glow. What he probably should have expected, what would have been just a moment of rest turned into a few hours and Takemura had already felt he had wasted enough time. </p><p>     “Thank you for the clothes,” he said, bowing his head slightly, as if his words weren’t enough to accentuate his appreciation. In reality, they really weren’t. </p><p>     Viktor waved his hand.</p><p>     “Don’t mention it. Figured you’d want to wear something that’d make you feel more...you.”</p><p>     Takemura let out a deep sigh. Viktor deserved more than half-truths and omissions. He owed him the truth, after everything the ripperdoc had done for him. </p><p>     “I was let go from the company.” Viktor frowned at this sudden change of topic, but said nothing, allowing Takemura to carefully choose his words as he continued. “Completely and irrevocably. I refused to accept the consequences my actions have brought upon me and was punished for it.”</p><p>     “Letting you out alive was Saka’s idea of a parting gift?” Viktor asked, leaning back on the chair. Despite the calmness of his voice, Takemura could feel a hint of sarcasm, anger even, though it was not directed at him. </p><p>     “I would say it was the opposite. In their eyes, I did not take the chance to redeem my honor and have to live with that decision weighing down on me.”</p><p>     Viktor hummed and took off his glasses, wiping the lenses on the edge of his shirt. Even though Takemura never wore them, always having been equipped with cutting edge optics, a new set from time to time, long before it officially made its way into the wider market, he doubted cleaning the lenses like this was effective. It almost looked like Viktor was buying himself time to think about what he was about to say, though the silence didn’t last more than a few seconds. </p><p>     “And in your eyes?”</p><p>     The question took Takemura aback, summing up what he’d been thinking about in merely a few words. A rare thing it might be, an ability he never had, never needed back when his life was dictated by a clear set of rules and orders from people he accepted as his superiors, first in the military and then, later, by Saburo-dono’s side. </p><p>     “I...am not sure yet. I came all this way only to realize that what I fought my entire life to protect, to uphold might be little more than a vicious lie. It is hard to face, how replaceable I am. I had been selfish, enough to believe that after I cleared my name and helped Hanako-sama bring Yorinobu to justice, everything would be the same as before. How foolish of me! Before I knew it, the order of things I fought to help restore, one I have killed for, was distorted into something I could no longer recognize. And the scariest part,” Takemura hesitated for a moment, but it was too late to not finish his trail of thought, bare all his doubts to Viktor the way he would never dare to in front of someone else. “is that it might have always been like that. I was just too blind to notice.”</p><p>     “Must’ve felt like a rug was swept from under your feet. However painful it might seem, you are your own man now. You can forge your own path, and it’s only up to you if you see it as a blessing or a curse, but it does make a hell of a difference. Trust me,” Viktor said, a warm, knowing smile on his face. “I’ve been there.”</p><p>     Takemura felt curiosity rise in his chest, remembering the photo of Viktor from his Trauma days, but he didn’t want to push the other man, just as Viktor had not pushed him. As expected, the ripperdoc didn’t elaborate and Takemura didn’t ask him to. There was a time for everything and he felt it wasn’t it, not yet. </p><p>     “Thank you,” he said and stood up, walking to the chair to grab his coat and put it on. It wasn’t that late, he might still be able to catch Akiko at work, not that she ever left it. “I am going to meet with a netrunner, but will be back soon.”</p><p>     “A friend of yours?”</p><p>     “I would hesitate to call her a friend, but we did help each other. That account I mentioned, I set it up shortly before leaving the city. I never thought I would have to use it again, but as you say...better to be safe than sorry.”</p><p>     Viktor hummed in response. “Alright. Just watch your step out there, the snow is pretty nasty.”</p><p>     “I will. By the way,” Takemura turned around just as he was about to put his hand on a scanner to open the front door. “what did you do with that car? And the wakizashi?”</p><p>     “The sword? Still have it, but left it behind at the clinic. Do you need it back?”</p><p>     Takemura hesitated. Does he?</p><p>     “Not really.” he silently hoped he never will. “The car?”</p><p>     “Had to call in a favor to make it disappear. A real shame, it was quite a beauty. Your Arasaka buddies seem to have cleaned their own mess before NCPD caught a whiff.”</p><p>     “Of course. They always do.” and with that, he walked out.</p><p>***</p><p>     When he finally reached the less frequented part of Charter Hill, the little sunlight that managed to break through the dark, heavy clouds was long gone, giving way to street lights and neons tastefully implemented into the newly built, sleek looking buildings, even though right now they were obscured by the heavy snowfall that made Takemura regret he couldn't just drive there. Even the ever present neons and advertisements were more subtle, on par with the kind of life the people residing in the district were leading - moderately comfortable, a step up from Heywood, but still not high enough up the food chain to compare with those rich enough to reside in City Plaza. Takemura had eventually strayed off from the wide, open spaced pavements into a more dense area, navigating the increasingly narrow streets that exposed the true image of Charter Hill, the middleman district with nothing but a pretty exterior masking the rot that went too deep into Night City’s system to ever be truly hidden, revealing itself in various ways, from overworked corpos passed out the benches despite the grueling cold to the occasional bloodstain on the pavement, only partially obscured by fresh snow, one that the cleaners haven’t managed to scrub off yet. An organic proof of meaningless violence in a place that kept eating its own young and hopeful, entangling them in an endless web of favors and obligations, one that kept tightening and spreading all around the city. Even Takemura, on his first visit to Night City, out of money and resources, found himself entering the untold arrangement that kept the city ticking, indebting himself to people and indebting others for his sake just to keep himself afloat. Some of the favors he already cashed in, others he hoped he’ll never have to, but at least in this case he didn’t walk past the rusty gate to the netrunner’s basement with cautious distrust, as he did with so many others. Akiko was different, much more human despite the fact she interacted with the ghosts floating around the Net much more frequently than with regular humans. Despite that, she still had something that many have lost on lesser endeavors - a conscience and a heart to back it up.</p><p>     As he walked down the stairs, careful not to slip on the ice the water dripping from the roof has turned into, he pushed the heavy, metal door open, only a small name plaque an indicator of who might reside there. The doors closed behind him with a dull thud, one that almost made him jump as he walked further into the building, following the neon line on the floor, the only source of light in the otherwise completely dark corridor. Eventually, it widened into a large room, the netrunner the only person there. For a second, Takemura didn’t even see her until he turned his gaze to the server on the left side, one of many lining the walls. Before Takemura had a chance to announce his presence, the netrunner’s voice came, a bit muffled:</p><p>     “Yeah yeah, gimme a sec!” the woman muttered, her entire torso still hidden inside the jaws of the machine as she tinkered with its’ insides, balancing on one foot as she struggled to reach for the cable she needed. </p><p>     “No rush, Akiko,” he said, leaning on the doorframe, seemingly the only place in the entire room where he wouldn’t have to worry about tripping over or breaking something, the space was so densely covered with cables and spare parts spread all over the floor and running up, creeping up on the walls, some insulated with a dulled glow of tiny LEDs, basking the room in an unnatural, blue light. How the netrunner could work like this, Takemura had no idea. </p><p>     Upon hearing his voice, the woman jumped, hitting her head on the metal plate with an audible thud. Cursing under her breath, she finally emerged and turned to face him, rubbing the back of her head with a pained expression. </p><p>     “Takemura, you scared the shit out of me! Some warning would be nice,” she complained as she walked over around the partially disassembled netrunning chair to greet him, a smile on her face despite her seemingly cold tone. She looked different from the last time he’d seen her, her previously long, greying hair now cut short and dyed angry pink, reflecting the blue hues and creating strands of violet that danced around her face every time she moved her head. </p><p>     “I presume this means you have not expected me.”</p><p>     “After our last conversation? The only person I expected to see less was Saburo Arasaka himself. What brings you back to Nigh City? I thought you hated the place.” she said, stepping over a box of what looked like fried cyberdecks to grab a chair. “Here, take a seat, you look like you’re about to topple over.”</p><p>     Takemura sighed and reluctantly sat down, secretly grateful for the offer. The room was unpleasantly warm, servers towering one next to the other enough to bring the temperature up to a point where he had to shake off his coat.</p><p>     “I came to honor the memory of a friend and stayed to admire the scenery,” he said, his attempt at sarcasm met with Akiko’s expression softening. Takemura saw the way her eyes kept darting to his arm, bandage peeking out from the long sleeve of his shirt. </p><p>     “Shit, I’m so sorry. It was that merc that you worked with, right? I heard about what you guys pulled at the parade from a ‘runner friend of mine. With what came after, I thought you’d be back at Saburo’s side in Tokyo, so…”</p><p>     “Akiko-san, excuse me, but I did not come here to gossip.” he stopped her mid sentence, feeling a sudden need to cut this conversation short and get out of this warm, confined room into the biting cold of Charter Hill. The woman looked surprised at the retort.</p><p>     “O-of course. Whaddya need?”</p><p>     “That account I asked you to set up before I left. Is it still up?”</p><p>     This time, she scoffed. </p><p>     “‘Course it is. I have one of these beauties constantly pulling it in and out of the Net as we speak.” she pointed to one of the servers lining the wall. “Normally it would’ve cost you a ton of eddies to keep it buried as deep as it is, but I honor my debts. You helped me, now I’m helping you, no questions asked. Although…” she trailed off and crossed her arms. “I’d certainly appreciate it if you cared to share why the hell you need to cash that one in in the first place. Arasaka not paying as much as they did back in my day?”</p><p>     Takemura grunted. Of course, she, of all the people he got to know in this godforsaken city, wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily. </p><p>     “We had a disagreement of sorts, one that resulted in me being let go in a rather abrupt manner. I did not have much time to make preparations for such an event, hence I come to you. I need to get access to the deposit. Can you do that for me?”</p><p>     Akiko narrowed her eyes, clearly not expecting such honesty on Takemura’s part. </p><p>     “Well then,” she said, reaching for a port box propped up next to one of the many screens standing on the tabletop. “of course I can. Just jack in and I’m gonna walk you through it.”</p><p>     “I am afraid my personal link is out of commission for now. Is there any other way?”</p><p>     “Good luck getting around the city without one. You had a ripperdoc take a look?”</p><p>     “I did,” he replied, a bit annoyed at her pretentiousness. “Please Akiko, just focus. Is there any other way?”</p><p>     “I can put you through a neural port directly, but…”</p><p>     “What?”</p><p>     “You’d have to jump into the Net with me and to be frank, you don’t look like you’re at the top of your game. With no one keeping an eye on your biomon, I’m worried you could flatline on me.”</p><p>     “So I can either wait until my personal link can be fixed or come back here with a ripperdoc?</p><p>     “A tech savvy one at that. And someone you trust, considering what we’re doing here.”</p><p>     Takemura was silent for a few seconds, considering. Just a few months ago, he’d probably rush into it, not wanting to stall his progress any further, determined to keep things moving even if it would cost him later, but now, with the unexpected turn his life has taken, he wasn't so quick to act. If jumping into the Net was as risky as Akiko made it out to be, and he had every reason to trust her on that, pushing for it right now would be counterproductive. He thought about Viktor and how his work would go to waste if Takemura was to fry on the netrunner’s chair, so much effort on the ripperdoc’s part for nothing. Other than the need to pay Viktor off as soon as possible, even if only to make up for his kindness, since the doctor not only did not push Takemura to hurry but offered him a place to stay so casually, there was nothing rushing him. No time sensitive goal that required him to push himself far past his limits as he feared not only for his uncertain future, but for his very life. It felt odd, in a way. </p><p>     “Fine. I think I know just the right person.”</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys, it's been a while! Don't worry, I'm still working on this one, just needed a little break to figure out where I want this story to go. Hope you'll enjoy this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To Takemura’s surprise, it didn’t take much convincing to get Viktor to come with him to see the netrunner. At first, the ripperdoc was hesitant, gently suggesting that Takemura should just wait for his hand to heal, there was no need to jump into netrunning and that he’s free to stay at the ripperdoc’s place for as long as he needs to, but something about the other man’s tone made him yield and here they were, a few days later, walking down the slippery stairs on the edges of Charter Hill. The temperature has risen just enough for the ice encasing the steps to melt, making the simple ordeal of walking down that much riskier, but eventually, they managed without slipping. Viktor had already closed the clinic for the night and just as Takemura had before, they’ve decided to just walk the distance between Misty’s shop and Akiko’s basement. Despite the foul weather, Takemura found the experience rather enjoyable, the way Viktor shared his anecdotes and took in Takemura’s comments. He had to admit, he never knew small talk could be this easy. Takemura would by no means call himself awkward, taking great pride in being able to navigate a wide array of social settings, but the point of such conversations often escaped him; instead, he preferred to get straight to the point, without wasting time on chatter devoid of any clear purpose. With Viktor, it was different, he’d go as far as to say that the meaningless exchange felt almost natural - nothing needed to be reviewed, decided, or discussed, leaving them with an opportunity to just enjoy each other’s presence. </p><p>Takemura pushed the heavy door open, leading the way as they both walked into the familiar, dark corridor. Leaving muddy footsteps on the concrete floor, they walked further into the building, and eventually, they reached the bigger room. Takemura noticed that Akiko was no longer busy tinkering with her hardware, but sitting in front of one of the many monitors, face furrowed in concentration as she typed away at the keyboard. She lifted her eyes and waved at Takemura, beckoning him to come in before she got up, typing in some last commands before she finally allowed her hands to get away from the keyboard and started walking up towards Takemura to properly greet her client. Suddenly, without an apparent reason, Akiko stopped halfway, her smile dropping almost immediately. </p><p>Perplexed, Takemura turned his head just in time to see Viktor freeze. The ripperdoc was staring at the woman as if he saw a ghost, throat jumping as he swallowed heavily. </p><p>“Viktor.” she spat out his name through gritted teeth like it was some kind of a curse, her brows furrowed in a clear expression of disgust. </p><p>“Akiko,” he echoed, still standing at the door, seemingly not daring to step inside the basement. Takemura couldn’t quite make out his eyes from behind the tinted shades, but the man’s voice told him he wasn’t trying to match the amount of venom Akiko managed to put in a single word. Quite the opposite, Viktor’s tone was almost apprehensive, gone was his usual steady confidence he carried himself with on their way here, The silence that fell on the netrunner’s workshop was almost palatable, so Takemura opened his mouth to say something, anything to break it, but Akiko was faster. </p><p>“You got some nerve, showin’ up here.”</p><p>“Listen, I-” before Viktor could finish, the woman turned her piercing gaze to Takemura.</p><p>“I tell you to bring in someone you trust and that’s who you go for?” Akiko scoffed. “Bold choice.”</p><p>Takemura had to admit, he was surprised by her reaction to the other man’s presence but didn’t let it reach his face. A sudden irritation swelled up in his chest upon hearing her words and he didn’t even think before words started escaping his mouth:</p><p>“Nevertheless, I stand by it.” Takemura replied, his tone colder than intended. “He saved my life, more than once. If that isn’t enough, you still owe me. I do not think there is much room for discussion here.”</p><p>“Goro, I don’t think this is necessary.” Viktor’s voice came from behind him. </p><p>“I happen to think it is.” the other man replied, eying the netrunner, his silver optics glistering. Akiko was still standing with her arms crossed over her chest, a stern expression on her face. She refused to break eye contact, not allowing herself to be beaten in this small, meaningless game of wills, but eventually, let out a sigh. </p><p>“Fine.” she finally said. “ but afterward, you’ll never bring him here again. Wear this,” she tossed a netrunning suit at him. “and get in the damn chair.”</p><p>***</p><p>“So what, you fry his brain? With no active cyberware, his output capacity for netrunning is-”</p><p>“Perfectly fine for a short dive like that.” she snarled, firing up one of the monitors. </p><p>“So you’ve done this before?” mockery rang in Viktor’s voice, a tone so unfitting to him it made Takemura cringe. </p><p>“There is always a risk of-” this time, Akiko was on the defensive, angrily smashing her fingers on the interface, not even looking away from the screen as she spoke.</p><p>“Then how about, for once, you actually-” Viktor started, but Takemura swiftly cut him off mid-sentence. </p><p>“Enough! Do not talk about me like I am not here. I do not know what it is between you two, but I would appreciate it if you could put it aside, just for a second.”</p><p>They both looked at him surprised, but dropped the banter, limiting themselves to exchanging glares and singular words as each set up their respective equipment. After a few more minutes, Akiko hopped onto the other chair, adjusting a few parameters on the screen above it before finally pushing it aside and plugging her personal link into the port.</p><p>“Let’s get this over with.” with that, her eyes rolled back into her skull, whites glistering. Takemura could see a soft glow that her eyelids didn’t manage to block and looked over to Viktor, netrunning cord in hand. </p><p>“I don’t think this is a good idea,” the ripper said, pushing up the glasses with his free hand. </p><p>“You were not this hesitant when I first asked.” Takemura pointed out. </p><p>“I know, but-” Viktor started, but just shook his hand. “anyway, you’ve made your decision, I don’t really have a say beyond giving you advice.”</p><p>“Is it medical advice or a friendly one?”</p><p>“Between you and me, a bit of both,” Viktor said, but seeing the other man’s expression, he just handed him the cord. Takemura plugged it in without a word and allowed himself to lay back, resting his head on the leather headboard. </p><p>For a brief second, his vision glitched. Takemura turned his head to look at Viktor once more, but before he could say anything else, the image started to blur and then bleed over, warping the room into an unrecognizable array of colors and shapes before that, too, was replaced by pitch darkness. Takemura felt as if the soft leather of the chair he was lying on had melted away, replaced by pure nothingness as he felt himself fall, gaining momentum with each passing millisecond. He tried moving his hands, just to see if he could, if not to stop the fall, but before he managed to force his limbs to move, it came to an abrupt stop. When he looked down, the floor he was standing on lighted up with soft, blue light with each step he took. Takemura turned his head to look around, the illuminated structures rising right in front of his eyes. He could see them shifting, thousands of lines of code wriggling like a can of worms, a perfect military unit, moving into position. </p><p>When it finally settled, he wasn’t sure he was seeing it right. </p><p>The stairs he had been standing on were bare, no handle or barrier to stop an eventual fall. Looking behind his shoulder in search of Akiko, Takemura started walking up, passing the rigid structures of scaffolding around the construction site until finally, he reached a rooftop. Before he had a chance to take in his surroundings, his eyes landed on a figure standing on the edge, the red strings of code of her silhouette contrasting sharply with the blues and blacks surrounding them. The woman had her arms crossed over her chest and she was casually leaning on the railing. Had they been in a different place, Takemura would say she was admiring the sunset, but since there was nothing of this sort to speak of in this bottomless pit of data, only darkness beneath them, it was only a brief thought. He walked in closer, his footsteps echoing on nothing. With every step he took, he felt his stomach sink further as the women’s silhouette materialized in more and more detail. Her short, frizzy hair stood out in every possible direction, strands moving slightly with the nonexistent wind. </p><p>“V?” his voice came out coarse, but the syllable carried through the empty space between them. The woman stirred but did not turn, eyes fixed on something far in the horizon, something only she could see. He took a few more steps forward, closing the distance between them, and stood next to her, putting his arms on the railing. The area beneath them was no longer empty, the second he laid his eyes on the digital landscape, data started pouring together to form shapes, an intricate composition of buildings. It was only a draft of the real thing, devoid of any real detail, but it was more than enough.<br/>They were looking at a shadow of Arasaka Industrial Park. </p><p>Takemura turned his head to V, or rather to whatever digital footprint of her remained. She was still not acknowledging his presence, but as she stared far into the complex beneath them or at the sunset which beauty he could not see, she was smiling. </p><p>“Takemura.” it came from somewhere behind him. He turned, startled, and saw Akiko approaching him from the other side of the platform. When he looked back to where V was standing, he saw she was no longer there. A fleeting memory.</p><p>“Why are we here?” he asked, voice echoing against the nonexistent walls. </p><p>“It highly depends on what is that ‘here’ you’re speaking of.” Akiko raised her eyebrows, though something in her expression told him she knew perfectly well what he had in mind. </p><p>“So it looks different to you?”</p><p>“Yeah. What you’re seeing is just your brain’s attempt to visualize the plethora of data going through it. It fishes for a familiar place to ease the neural strain. Now come on, let’s go get what we came here for, no need to linger.”</p><p>***</p><p>His vision still hadn't cleared by the time he and Viktor gathered up to leave, little black dots dancing on the edges of Takemura’s vision every time he moved his head, a slightly blurry notification popping up on his interface informing him of an incoming transaction. He accepted with a flicker of the eye and watched as his account balance quadrupled with the money he and Akiko recovered. It should be just enough to get him back on his feet, at least until he figures out what to do next, but first things first, he had to pay Viktor back. </p><p>“And Takemura?” Akiko shouted behind him right as they were about to leave. “We’re even.”</p><p>They walked back to Viktor’s apartment in complete silence, snow creaking beneath their boots as they turned each corner, both lost deep in their own thoughts. By the time they reached the megablock, it was well past midnight, but it didn’t mean the social hubs of the building were any more empty. They passed through them quickly and eventually found themselves back in Viktor’s place, shedding off their coats and throwing them over the desk’s chair almost in unison. </p><p>It was Viktor who finally broke the silence. </p><p>“Let me rewrap that for you.” Viktor gestured toward the other man’s arm. “Afterwards, we can sit down and talk, maybe crack a beer or two open. Reckon it’ll do both of us some good” Takemura nodded and watched the ripperdoc walk away from the table towards the bathroom. Takemura could hear the rattling of medical supplies as Viktor gathered everything he needed from a small cabinet above the sink. Still intrigued by whatever went down between Viktor and Akiko back in her lair, Takemura took a seat at the counter, quickly unbuttoning the cuffs and rolling the shirt’s sleeve up to reveal the bandaged arm. He didn’t have much time to ponder before Viktor finally emerged and put the supplies on the counter in front of them before hopping onto the chair himself. </p><p>There were more cuts than he remembered, places where Viktor went in with a scalpel to replace some of his ruined cyberware. The cuts were still angry red, but in much better condition than they had the right to be after such a short time, neat stitching pulling the broken skin together. Takemura knew they’re going to scar, but at the very least he still had an arm. He watched silently as Viktor worked, cleaning the wounds with an antiseptic before putting fresh gauze over them. </p><p>There was something about Viktor that made Takemura want to lean into the touch. He was used to doctors, having been injured countless times in the course of his service to the Arasakas, but there was a jarring difference between the way the ripperdoc was looking over the cuts, none of the impersonal, clinical touch that Takemura was accustomed to. He took a deep breath in, dismissing the thought and pushing it as far down his consciousness as it’d go. It was not the time for such indulgences. </p><p>“I apologize,” Takemura finally said. “Perhaps I should not have acted this aggressively. I should not have intervened between you two to reach my own goal, since it was clearly a personal matter.”</p><p>“Nah, it’s fine. I’m glad you spoke up before we had a chance to jump to each others' throats,” the ripperdoc said, not lifting his gaze, still fixed on the other man’s arm. “I guess I owe you an explanation.”</p><p>“I have to admit I am curious,” Takemura said, this time choosing his words carefully. “but you do not owe me anything. If you prefer to keep this a private matter, it is fine. I would not hold that against you.”</p><p>“Don’t worry,” Viktor replied, pinning the fresh bandage in place. “I have to warn you, though. It’s a long one, so we might as well move to the couch. Let me grab some beer from the fridge.” and with that, he hopped off the chair. Takemura followed and settled on the sofa, Viktor soon joining him and handing him a bottle before sitting down. </p><p>“By the 60s, my boxing career was coming to an end. You see, cyberware in sports wasn't strictly regulated until not even a decade ago and more than a few lads took advantage. New guys came in, with implants padding their brains, and with how expensive those things used to be back then, there was no way I could afford even the smallest piece of cyberware. Soon enough, I found myself patching the guys on ringside more often than throwing punches and that’s when someone from Trauma noticed me. You have to understand that for a guy from Heywood, this was an opportunity of a lifetime. Most of the guys there are ex-military, so I was an odd one, but I didn’t allow myself to lag behind. Most of the time I didn’t feel like socializing, but I brought enough practical skills to the table that the others respected me. </p><p>A few months into the program, they added another guy to our unit. His name was Takeshi and he moved to Night City shortly before that, from the Kyoto branch of Trauma. Still had a few months of basic training to do, so they placed him with us. Takeshi was off to a rough start, dropped into our group a few months in, everyone already a part of their own little clique. Some of them didn’t take too kindly to a newcomer and I can’t blame them, considering the way Trauma medics are trained to work like one organism. It takes trust to build this level of coordination, so Takeshi had a lot to prove” Viktor paused, taking a sip from the bottle. “and let me tell you, he delivered.”</p><p>“That is him in the photo, yes?” Takemura asked, gesturing toward the small collection of pictures to their right. Viktor nodded. </p><p>“I never quite dropped boxing, it was an excellent way to stay in shape for a job like that, so I’d always stay behind in the gym to practice after the place emptied in the evenings. One night, Takeshi stayed behind too, watching me for a good while. I didn’t make anything of it, figuring he’ll eventually get bored and leave, but instead he asked me for a sparring.” Viktor chuckled at the memory. “my first thought was that he was joking. The guy was way smaller than me and the insinuation that he’d be able to take me on was laughable and that’s what I did. Presumptuous, I know.” he added, noticing Takemura’s expression. “but I didn’t know any better back then. I thought we’d be done in seconds.”</p><p>“And were you?” Takemura asked, taking a sip from his own bottle. The beer had a rich, somewhat spicy taste that lingered after. He could feel his lips smirking against the cold glass, already knowing where Viktor’s story was going. </p><p>“Oh, we were. With me sprawled on the ground.” the ripperdoc let out a short laugh. “As you see, I made the mistake of underappreciating him. After that, we’d often stay behind together practicing. Soon enough, we started to meet outside of it too, often spending weekends going from bar to bar. As it turned out, he wasn’t the quiet guy I took him for, turning out to be quite chatty. He’d tell me all about his life back in Kyoto, not to mention he was quite opinionated about Night City, especially the local food, just as you are.” Takemura opened his mouth to ask how Viktor could possibly know that, but then it hit him. V must’ve told him all about the time they spent together. </p><p>“Doing a gig for Trauma was the fastest way for him to get a medical license and stay in the US for good, but he was probably the least trigger happy person I’ve ever known. Would make a great hospital doctor, with his bedside manner, but bureaucracy made it impossible for him to just hop positions like that. Months went by and we graduated, by dumb luck ending up in the same unit. Two years down the line and he comes to me, the stupidest grin on his face, telling me he met a girl.”</p><p>“Akiko?”</p><p>“Yeah. She was starting at Arasaka back then, climbing her way up the information security department. She never really liked me, but they hit it right off, another two years pass and he invites me to their wedding, even asked me to be his best man. Best party I’ve ever been to. It all seemed to be working out for us, he was happily married and we both landed great jobs. That is, before corporate started rubbing their hands all over it.”</p><p>“Isn’t Trauma a private corporation in and on itself?</p><p>“It is, but bear with me. When you’re a regular armed medic, you don’t really feel all the pressure coming from above, but the higher up you go, the more entangled you get. I’m sure you know what I mean.</p><p>“You might say so.”</p><p>“Then I’m sure you know, most likely better than anyone else, that it’s just a matter of time before those things start to get complicated. But that’s a whole different story, a less happy one, but it explains why Akiko reacted the way she did when she saw me this evening.” Viktor said, leaning back on the sofa and taking another swing from the bottle. “but I guess neither of us has anywhere else to be right now.”</p><p>“I believe so,” Takemura replied, placing his beer on the small coffee table in front of them. </p><p>“Alright then. You know, I’m not superstitious, but that day, I knew something bad would happen. I just didn’t think it'd be like this.”</p><p> </p>
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